


The You're Welcome Job

by CatKing_Catkin



Series: Ties that Bind [2]
Category: Angel: the Series, Leverage
Genre: Accidents, Alternate Universe, Angst, Friendship, Gen, Headcanon, Injury, Long Lost/Secret Relatives, Not Canon Compliant, Post Season/Series 02, Reconciliation, Rescue, Resurrection, Sibling Bonding, Siblings, Team Bonding, Twins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-15
Updated: 2013-01-03
Packaged: 2017-11-21 04:11:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 13,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/593308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatKing_Catkin/pseuds/CatKing_Catkin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post Season 2. Nathan Ford knew that his team wouldn't leave him to rot in prison. He knew they'd try to get him back. But when he's suddenly assigned a lawyer to his case, Nate has no idea of the trouble that's to come. Putting Eliot in the same room as his twin, even accidentally, turns out to be a very bad move indeed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Static

**Author's Note:**

> While "The Ties That Bind Job" was basically canon compliant, we leave canon behind here and pretty much we don't look back. Fair warning. Mostly because, well, I couldn't resist the opportunity to bring a certain someone back from the dead. Let me know what you think!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nate knew his team wouldn't leave him in the lurch. He knew they'd try and get him back. But he seems to have underestimated the lengths to which they'll go...

His team hadn't left him in the lurch. Nate had known they wouldn't, that they'd try somehow to get him out, but the fact of the matter was that Jim Sterling – Interpol – knew their faces. He knew their methods, knew their habits, and knew they wouldn't rest until they'd figured out some way to get Nate out of jail.

Fortunately for Nate's continued peace of mind, the team had kept their actions since fleeing from the shipyard that day subtle and largely legal. They sent him gifts, so he'd know that they hadn't forgotten him, and that they remembered the last words he'd said to them that day and felt the same.

Eliot sent him books, because he knew how restless Nate got if he didn't have something to occupy his mind. None of Parker's gifts actually made it through the prison's stringent screening process. She kept trying to send him baked goods with various tools stuffed clumsily inside – the first one had actually been a cake with a nail file in it. Nate loved her for trying.

Hardison's gift was more indirect. Hardison was the one who made Sophie's gift possible via fake ID cards and careful monitoring of the prison's million and one security cameras.

Sophie _visited_. Once every few weeks the grifter would sneak into the building dressed as a laundry woman or a janitor, and somehow arrange her work so that she could linger outside his door for a little while. She'd stay and talk about everything she knew he wanted to know.

Typically, he wanted to know first about the team. Sophie repeatedly assured him that they were only ever in Boston during her visits. Otherwise they stayed in a "holding pattern", moving from place to place around the state every few days.

He loved them for sticking close, but at the same time Nate couldn't help wishing that they'd just scatter already. Sterling had agreed to leave them alone, but that would only hold as long as they didn't give him the slightest excuse to back out of the bargain.

Nate knew he couldn't live with himself if that happened. Not after everything he'd done to guarantee their safety.

So the days passed, blending one into the other. He kept himself occupied with Eliot's books, and amusing little tidbits about whatever baked good Parker had tried to send him that week, and looked forward to Sophie's visits.

He knew that Sterling would let him out one day, but Nate also knew that day was probably a long way off.

For the sake of his team, he was content to wait. He wasn't badly treated. He was bored and impossibly lonely, but he wasn't badly treated.

He almost never saw Sterling, which was a blessing. Nate was proud of the self-control he'd developed over the last two years, but silently resolved that if Sterling ever placed himself within reach of the bars of his cell, any judge would agree he'd been justifiably provoked.

Sterling had found other things to do.

Until, one day, he apparently hadn't.

"You have a visitor."

Nate looked up, folding down the page to mark his place in _The Sign of the Four_. Yes, there stood James Sterling. There stood James Sterling, if Nate was any judge, just out of reach of the bars. Only just. _Three inches, at most._

"Really?" he asked, pasting on his most polite smile. "How nice." It wouldn't have been his team – they'd _been_ visiting him. It might have been Maggie, but Nate had been in here for a month and he knew that the team would have told her what had happened right away. She wouldn't have waited a month.

So who would be here to "visit"? _A client, maybe?_

Sterling did not elaborate on his statement. He summoned a prison guard to unlock Nate's door and handcuff him. Nate continued to smile politely – blandly – because if you were polite and bland and quiet, you usually didn't get handcuffed behind your back. Today was no exception. He had no plans for escape – not now at least – but it was still nice to have options.

Sterling walked in front of him, and the nameless prison guard followed behind. They took him straight to the visiting area, where a man sat at a table spread with papers. Nate couldn't make out quite what their purpose was. The man looked familiar at first glance, but he had his head down when they'd entered.

The guard sat him down and left the room. Sterling remained, standing by the door.

This put him behind Nate – something he was immediately grateful for once he'd sat down and could see exactly who was on the other side of the table. He was used to dealing with surprises and unexpected challenges without batting an eye, but when the man finally looked up and met his gaze it was an honest to God effort for Nate to not react with the amount of shock he felt.

_No, not you…_

"Nathan Ford?" Eliot's expression gave no hint whatsoever that they'd spent the last two years working as teammates, becoming friends. It was an unsettling look, to say the least – going all the way to his eyes – but on some level Nate realized he was also quite proud of his hitter. _He must have studied for weeks with Sophie to perfect that poker face._

Nate finally managed to swallow his shock long enough to accept the proffered handshake. "Yes."

"Lindsey McDonald. I've been hired as your attorney."


	2. Change of Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nate's lawyer promises to get him out, by any means necessary. Nate's not quite sure how he feels about that, or how he feels about the look in Eliot's eyes. They've pretended to be strangers a hundred times before, so why is this one time bothering him so much?

_Lindsey McDonald?_ If it wouldn't have looked ridiculously suspicious and probably have gotten him locked up again, Nate would have lit into Eliot right then and there. _Of all the obvious, blatant stupid moves to try…_ Running a game on _James Sterling_ , of all people, using his dead twin brother's identity was as reckless as he'd ever seen Eliot, and that was saying a lot.

Their only saving grace would be if Sterling didn't know that Eliot had had a twin brother, or didn't know that that twin brother had been dead for five years. Either scenario was possible. _Unlikely, but possible._ Sterling's suspicions would already be up because of the physical resemblance, however, so Nate mustered up his best poker face and tried to pretend – just as Eliot was doing – that they'd never met before.

They had pretended to be strangers during nearly every job. They pretended day after day to meet for the first time. _So why is this bothering me so much? God, I'm getting soft._

Everything he could have said, and "…I get an attorney?" was what he finally managed to say out loud.

"As a citizen of the United States, it is your right." Eliot smiled indulgently at him before looking past him to scowl at Sterling. "Am I to understand, Agent Sterling, that this man was not apprised of his rights before being taken into custody?"

"I would have to check the paperwork," said Sterling, looking completely unruffled and completely unsurprised by Eliot's presence in general. "What with him bleeding out all over the pier, I must admit I wasn't paying all that much attention. I'm sure everything was handled properly, Mr. McDonald."

Eliot made a note in one of several notebooks open on the table. Nate scanned the mess of papers, and was impressed to see that they looked like legitimate legal documents. A few even looked to contain proper, usable evidence.

 _They must have been working for weeks to get this together_ , he marveled silently to himself. God, he loved his team.

"Mr. Sterling, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave," Eliot said after a moment, not bothering to look up from his writing. "It's clear to me that your presence has a detrimental effect on my client's state of mind."

Nate didn't dare turn around to see Sterling's face. "You are aware that Nathan Ford is considered one of our most dangerous inmates, Mr. McDonald?"

Eliot produced another piece of paper, and made a show of examining it. "Says here that he's more or less behaved himself for the past four months."

"Yes. The operative words, of course, being 'more or less'."

Nate smirked. Eliot did not so much as flinch, raising his head slowly to look at Sterling. "Agent Sterling, I have worked with Wolfram & Hart for the better part of my career. You have to be aware of the types of cases we specialize in. I think I can defend myself against a man in handcuffs."

Nate did turn then, in time to see Sterling shrug. It was an elegant gesture, managing to convey the words "on your own head be it" without him actually having to open his mouth again.

He did leave them alone, however – closing the door behind him and locking it from the outside; effectively trapping them together. It couldn't have been a ploy to intimidate Nate – he suspected it was meant to rattle Eliot – locking him in with one of the prison's "most dangerous inmates".

_Maybe Sterling really does believe that Eliot's his own twin brother._

Or maybe it was a ploy to lure Nate and Eliot into a false sense of security, by leaving them alone together to plot. He'd believe anything of Sterling at this point. They were definitely under surveillance in here. _Better play it straight, at least for now._

Eliot had clearly studied up on his legalese. That much was clear half an hour into the discussion. Nate was also surprised to learn that he had actual evidence sitting on the table in front of him. He couldn't work out quite _how_ they'd managed to get their hands on so much evidence when they'd retreated from the scene of the crime so quickly, but after spending two years working with Hardison he knew that he shouldn't ever underestimate them.

Eliot asked him some stock questions, ones that might be used in a job interview as well as a court case – taking copious notes the whole time.

Nate followed along, all the while mulling over just _how_ he could ask the questions he so desperately needed to ask.

Eventually, he went for one of the notebooks. The security cameras wouldn't be that good. Eliot watched him, eyebrows raised slightly, as Nate pulled the spiral towards him, grabbed a pencil, and wrote, _How is everyone?_

He pushed the message across the table. Eliot read it, thought for a second, and then jotted down a reply: _As well as can be expected._

That was good. That was better than he'd hoped for on his worst nights.

But Eliot wasn't done writing. The pencil scratched out another message. Nate realized with another jolt of surprise that his handwriting seemed a bit more legible now than it had in the past – enough for him to be able to pass as someone who regularly had to write things down. _Sophie must have drilled him on that, too._ He'd never given it much thought, but Nate now realized he rarely saw Eliot ever write anything down.

_How are you?_

That was easy enough. _All right._

_Really?_

_Yes. Just bored._

_Easily fixed._

"So Mr. McDonald," Nate said out loud, "do you think I have a case?"

Eliot stared at him for a long moment. _Almost,_ Nate thought _, as if he thinks I'm joking_. "Mr. Ford," he said finally, "I expect to have you out on bail by the close of business today."

Nate sat back in his chair, stunned by the revelation _. Bail? This is their plan?_ He felt another surge of anger at the risks the team seemed determined to take. "Mr. McDonald," he said, struggling to keep himself under control – to stay in character no matter how badly he wanted to scream, "Bail was one of the first things discussed after my arrest. I was told it was impossible."

A slow smile spread across Eliot's face – colder and more calculating than Nate ever expected to see on the face of any member of his team. "You were also not told of your basic civil rights. Forgive me, Mr. Ford, but in matters concerning your legal defense, I think we'll be taking my lead from this point on instead of yours."

Before Nate could find any voice to respond, Eliot starting listing points from his notes. "Lifelong resident of Boston, strong ties to the community, numerous charitable contributions over the last few years…" He paused, glancing up. "The dead son's good. We can use that."

"That's enough," Nate snapped. What the hell was Eliot playing at bringing Sam into this? "You're out of line."

Eliot sighed, tossing his pen down. "Mr. Ford, I am obligated to use any legal means at my disposal to secure your release. Your cooperation is appreciated, but certainly not required."

Nate blinked, stunned once more into silence. If they pulled this off, he was going to give Sophie and Eliot the chewing out of a lifetime, followed by the best dinner he could still afford. Eliot's performance was currently rivaling Sophie at her absolute best.

After a moment, Eliot returned his attention to his notepad. "You've cooperated with both Interpol and the FBI in building a case against Tony Kadjic, and all this is before I even get into how your weren't read your rights after your arrest." He looked up, meeting Nate's gaze. "Frankly Mr. Ford, the fact that you haven't been given bail prior to this point is actionable if you want me to pursue it."

"That's…that's all right," Nate stammered. His head was starting to spin at how fast this was unfolding. "Just get me out of here."

Eliot made a show of gathering up his papers and returning them to his briefcase. "I expect to have a voicemail shortly, Mr. Ford. Try not to get into any trouble in the next few hours, and I should have you home by dinner."

 


	3. Nice to Meet You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things turn out to be not quite what they seemed. The Leverage Team is back together, but they barely get the chance to say hello before they all have another, patently impossible problem to deal with. At least, now, they can deal with it together.

And that was that. Eliot called Sterling and the guards back in shortly after to say that they were done, and to take Nate back to his cell – presumably to wait out the next few hours safely out of harm's way until bail was secured. Nate went without complaint. He didn't know why, but something aboutEliot's demeanor made him all but certain that he would indeed be home by dinner.

In the privacy of his cell, however, he could also admit to himself that a part of him was glad to get away from Eliot, so he could process everything that had happened. When they locked the door behind him, he was finally able to sit down and unclench his shaking hands. Intellectually, he knew that the meeting shouldn't have upset him. Eliot was just playing a part – doing a job – all for the purpose of getting Nate out.

But _nothing_ was worth invoking Sam. Nate had thought Eliot knew that. He'd thought they _all_ knew that.

_Yeah. You and I are going to have a talk later, Eliot._

He managed to calm himself down enough to return to his reading. There was nothing else that he could do. He knew that Eliot would get him bail. All he had to do now was wait just a few more hours.

The clock on the wall opposite his cell read ten minutes to seven when Sterling finally came back. This time, he didn't even try to come close to the bars.

Nate looked up, folding down the page again to mark his place in _The Sign of the Four_. Sterling's face was unreadable, which made him smile. Whenever Jim Sterling's face was that perfectly _blank_ , it was because he had just been utterly screwed over, and was trying not to show it.

"I assume there are some forms for me to sign," he said, closing the book.

"There are. Your lawyer's handling his part of the paperwork right now."

"How nice." Nate got up and went to the bars. Sterling didn't come any closer; he showed his typical frustratingly well developed good sense, and waved over the guard to open the door. Nate walked out into the hallway. This time, he was not handcuffed.

_He did it. They did it._

He met Eliot at the front desk, apparently on the last few pages of his forms. Without looking up, the hitter passed a sheaf of papers to Nate with a pen placed helpfully on top. Without saying anything yet, Nate started signing.

There would be time for arguments and lectures later.

Despite his team's drastic measures to reach this point, Nathan Ford realized that thought made him honestly _happier_ than he'd felt in months.

Eliot finished up first, laying down his pen with a sigh before looking up at Nate for the first time since telling him that his "cooperation" was not necessary. Nate met his teammate's gaze. He looked a little less cold than he had back in the room, but the look in his eyes was still the picture of someone who had never met Nate before this afternoon.

"Well, Mr. Ford," he said, "I know I promised to have you out by dinner, but I guess I forgot to mention that I eat a bit later than most. Even so, I doubt you have any objections."

"No," said Nate. "Did you call the others?" He was a free man, after all, and didn't see the point in continuing to run the game.

Eliot apparently disagreed, his persona still firmly and obviously in place. "I alerted your associates as soon as I had something concrete to tell them. They should be here soon."

 _I'm slow,_ Nate thought _._ If the team showed up sansone member, and Nate's lawyer just happened to look _exactly_ like that missing member, that would bring up just a few too many awkward questions. Which explained Eliot's insistence on holding character, and the sense Nate couldn't shake that he was rushing them through the paperwork. He probably already had a plan in place to duck out, change into something a little more like what he'd normally wear, and join up with the team in time to pick up Nate. _It's the sensible thing to do._

Confirming Nate's realization, Eliot smiled blandly at him and turned to leave. Nate – moving so fast that he surprised himself – reached out and grabbed his wrist.

"I need to talk to you, and I'd like to do it before the rest of the team gets here," he said quietly.

Eliot did not turn back to look at him at first. "Mr. Ford, I have secured bail for you and cleared you of all standing charges. We have nothing else to discuss."

He tried to pull away. Nate tightened his grip and lowered his voice. "Eliot, I appreciate what you did here, more than you will ever know. But walking in here under your dead twin brother's name was reckless. It was a _miracle_ that you even got in the door with Sterling in the building. I know you and the others must have worked hard for this. But I put myself in here in the first place so that you all could get away. And you paid me back by being as reckless as I have ever seen you. That is not okay. But what's worse is the fact that _you brought my son into this_. In that respect, at least, I thought you'd know better."

Eliot was still trying to pull away. Nate was stunned to realize that the hitter was shaking. "I was doing my job."

"I know," Nate said. "And there's a part of me that's honestly impressed, because you clearly worked very hard to do so. But at the same time, there are lines we do not cross. I thought you knew that."

"In times like these, there is no black and white. Just gray. I thought _you_ knew that."

This flat, cold proclamation hit Nate like a slap upside the head, and without thinking he released Eliot. His hitter promptly began walking towards the doors outside. For just a second, Nate made to follow him, and then he thought better of it and stopped himself. With a tired sigh, he went back to filling out his forms.

He heard the doors open, but instead of hearing one pair of footsteps leave he heard four pairs of footsteps entering.

He heard four pairs of achingly familiar voices call his name. _"Nate!"_

Nate looked up, and there they were. Sophie, Hardison, Parker, and Eliot were all standing in the doorway, all staring over at him like he was the one thing they'd wanted most in the world to see. He smiled at the sight of them, feeling happier and more like himselfthan he had in months.

They were _there_ , they were _safe_ , and now they could be a family again.

Even so, as he stared at the scene in front of him, he realized that there was something fundamentally wrong about it. Sophie, Hardison, Parker, and Eliot – all here, all showing the right emotions, the right reactions. Why did it have him suddenly on edge?

And then he saw his lawyer, standing between Nate and the others, apparently having been stopped dead in his retreat by their arrival.

_There was an Eliot standing between Nate and his team, and there was an Eliot standing with Hardison, Parker, and Sophie._

The others saw Nate staring, open-mouthed. Following his gaze, they seemed to register the presence of the other Eliot at approximately the same time. They all looked shocked, but Eliot looked _angry._

He was also the first to react, closing the distance separating him from his doppelganger and grabbing him by the arm. The other Eliot did not try to retreat, and would not return Eliot's gaze.

Numb inside, Nate forced himself to join the two of them. The rest of the team, clearly startled at both the presence of the clone and Eliot's reaction, gathered around as well.

"What's going on here?" Nate asked quietly.

Lawyer Eliot looked up at him. Now that the two men were side-by-side, Nate could see quite clearly that he was _not_ Eliot Spencer, despite the resemblance. It was a series of subtle differences, rooted more in experience than genetics.

Up close, with his Eliot for comparison, it was easy to tell the difference.

The Eliot-that-was-not-Eliot looked up at him and smiled bitterly. "Lindsey McDonald," he said. "Pleased to meet you."

"Liar," said Parker flatly.

Lindsey turned to look at her. "Does Eliot have some other identical twin brother stashed away that he's never told me about?"

"Apparently," Parker snapped, "Because Lindsey's dead."

"Yeah," growled Eliot. "He is."

The glint in the hitter's eyes was downright frightening, but it was gone almost as soon as Nate had registered its existence. Eliot looked at him then suddenly, a silent apology for marring _their_ moment, the _team's_ moment, with this revelation. Nate smiled weakly, trying to tell his hitter without words that this wasn't Eliot's fault.

He hadn't known. _They_ hadn't known. That much was clear by the looks of stunned shock on his teammates' faces – looks Nate knew were mirrored in his own expression.

"Standard perpetuity clause," said Eliot, apparently by way of explanation. He glanced at his brother for confirmation. "Right?"

Lindsey smiled faintly, nodding.

Eliot looked back at the team. "Wolfram and Hart has a deal for their best and brightest. They call it the 'standard perpetuity clause.' Once you reach a high enough rung on the ladder, they fix it so you can't die. Even if your head gets chopped off, they can bring you back so you can keep doing your job."

"White-collar zombies?" Hardison asked, shuddering.

"Pretty much," said Eliot – his tone flat.

"It's not the worst fate in the world," said Lindsey, shrugging airily. He smiled again at his brother. "I'm impressed. I never thought you paid that much attention."

"You never do." Without warning, Eliot violently shoved Lindsey away, as though being near his twin disgusted him. Lindsey stumbled back, the expression on his face suddenly quite unreadable.

"That's enough," said Nate sharply. Eliot immediately stepped further back from his brother, far enough that he could relax from his fighting stance. Lindsey took a step back of his own, so that he was no longer surrounded by the rest of them.

Nate suddenly realized that he was very tired. Even without this added complication, he still had paperwork to fill out and his personal effects to retrieve. He said as much to the rest of the team.

"So if I leave you four alone together for a while, can I trust that you won't kill one another?" He'd included Lindsey in this question, but left out Sophie, and was met with varying degrees of assent.

Nate turned to Sophie. "I still need to go and get my things. Do you mind?"

She smiled and shook her head. "Not at all." She came immediately to his side, and Nate relaxed just a little.

Before they left, Nate pointed at Lindsey, and looked at Eliot. "Keep him here."

Eliot nodded, although Nate could tell he wasn't happy about it. Satisfied that things were as under control as they were likely to get, Nate grabbed the forms to take with him, and went off to collect his personal effects.


	4. Catching Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nate and Sophie catch up. Eliot shuts down. Hardison and Parker try their best to help him. And Lindsey? He's just watching, and waiting.

"Well, I feel like an idiot," he said, as soon as he and Sophie were safely out of earshot.

"Why?" asked Sophie, clearly confused.

"Because it turns out I can't even recognize my own teammates. I don't even know how they think." He turned to look at her. "Sophie, I honestly thought that was Eliot I've been talking to all day."

She smiled wryly and nudged him gently in the ribs. "Nate, you were talking to Eliot's identical twin brother who died five years ago, as far as we knew. And he was trying to get you out. Of course you jumped to conclusions." She suddenly frowned, then added, "We were trying to get you out, you know. Hardison in particular has barely slept these last few months, what with trying to find evidence we could use. We were trying. We just knew you wouldn't want us to get ourselves caught after you'd put yourself through so much."

Nate smiled in happy relief.

 _That's my team_.

"So cut yourself a break," Sophie continued. "An actual _miracle_ happened just to get you out of jail."

Nate frowned. "Yeah…about that. What the hell are we going to do about him? If what Eliot says is true…"

"…Lindsey is basically a literate zombie," Sophie finished with a sigh. "But," she went on, "he's _Eliot's_ literate zombie. We might need to defer to his judgment on this, Nate."

He scowled. "Remember what happened last time Eliot had to deal with his twin brother? And that was when he thought Lindsey was dead."

Sophie winced. She did remember. Eliot had been in recovery for _weeks_.

"I know this is probably very personal for Eliot," Nate added, "but he's proven that Lindsey makes him emotional. Not to mention the issue of why Wolfram and Hart would bring one of their lawyers back from the dead to come and get bail for me in the first place, of course. That's something that's going to itch for a while."

"You could always ask," Sophie suggested.

"Something tells me Lindsey is probably the dishonest twin," Nate said.

"Probably," Sophie agreed. "Whereas Eliot's just the mum twin."

Nate laughed, in spite himself. "Do you think this is permanent?"

"Hm?"

"Lindsey's second coming. Do you think it's permanent, or is this a one-time deal for him?"

Sophie shrugged. "Could go either way. I mean, even if it was just a one-time deal, who better to use your one time deal for? I've talked to Eliot about Lindsey, and from what I could gather Lindsey did look after him."

"Maybe he did when he was alive. Now, we can't know."

"I guess not."

Nate and Sophie rounded a corner, and found themselves at the collection desk. Nate smiled his most ingratiating smile at the bored receptionist. "Excuse me," he said, and laid his hands lightly on Sophie's shoulders.

Before she could open her mouth to protest – if she had actually intended to protest – Nate had kissed her. It was long and slow and sweet, trying to put just how much he'd _missed_ her into it.

After all, he'd been apart from her the longest, and as much as he loved them all she meant the most to him. Even when she'd come to their rescue that day, there hadn't really been time for him to realize that she'd come back before he'd had to leave her again.

Now, however, _just maybe_ they had time. He tried to put all those happy, helpless feelings into the kiss, and by the way her eyes were shining when they finally pulled away Nate fancied that she'd understood.

"You didn't smack me this time," he murmured in her ear.

"Yeah, well," said Sophie, a little breathlessly, shrugging airily. "You've had a long day."

They smiled at one another, and then Nate went to finally collect his personal effects. He was given his clothes, his wallet, his identification, his keys, and various and sundry other bits and pieces that had been taken from him that day.

But most importantly of all, he was given back his com. Nate put it back into his ear with a sigh of relief.

He frowned, as he heard nothing but static.

He cast a questioning glance at Sophie.

"We left off the ear buds," she said with a shrug. "Didn't want to make Sterling any more suspicious."

"Well, I am officially a free man," Nate said. "Jim Sterling can go screw himself."

She laughed at that. "Ooh, prison's made you a right hard case." She paused, waving the paperwork at him. "Sadly, you're not free and clear yet."

Nate heaved a theatrical sigh and sat down on the bench. Sophie sat beside him and handed him a pen.

* * *

Hardison and Parker had decided to take the initiative. Eliot was sitting on one side of the room – Lindsey was on the other, and neither Hardison nor Parker were comfortable with what they saw in Eliot's eyes.

They'd never seen their teammate so completely and utterly _withdrawn_. He was sitting at the other end of the bench, as far from them as he could without putting them out of reach if danger arose, and just _staring_. He wasn't looking at Lindsey, or at them. He was just staring ahead blankly, and that was somehow worse than the rage they knew he was capable of.

Parker and Hardison knew the signs of someone who desperately wanted to be alone, but they also knew Eliot.

He did look up when they went to stand in front of him, but said nothing.

"How are you?" Parker asked quietly.

Eliot shrugged.

"Listen," said Hardison, "we know this has gotta be rough for you, but…"

"…if you want to…talk…" added Parker.

"To you?" asked Eliot, smiling wryly.

Hardison shrugged. "If you want," he said. "We are a team, and sometimes teammates talk. But we were thinking more along the lines of catching up with your other half." He jerked a thumb at Lindsey.

 _Wrong answer_ , he thought wretchedly. Eliot switched off again almost immediately.

"I did my grieving," he said. "Don't have anything more to say to him, even if he is here to hear it this time."

"He's your brother," said Parker.

"He's a _corpse_. He's _their_ corpse." Eliot pointed angrily at Lindsey, who was watching them so closely that Hardison could feel the stare on the back of his neck. "Wolfram and Hart couldn't have brought him back if there was anything human left. The guy standing over there may have my face, but he's not my brother!"

"He seems to think so," said Hardison.

Eliot looked away. "You…"

* * *

Parker gave up. Hardison and Eliot were her two most favorite people in the world, but there were days she had no patience for their boy-games. She heaved a sigh, turned away, and began to cross the room.

She wasn't sure what she'd do once she got there, but _smacking_ that stare right off of Lindsey's face would probably figure into it somewhere.

After a moment, Hardison and, thankfully, Eliot got up and started after her. Parker refused to stop until Hardison laid a hand on her shoulder and pulled her back. "Woman, _what_..?"

Parker refused to turn around. "We need to talk to Lindsey," she said. "We need answers. We need to know what the hell is going on here. What he wants with Nate. What he wants with _us_. The bestperson to get those answers would be Eliot, but if he won't then _someone_ has to. Might as well be me."

Neither of her friends replied to this. Slowly, Hardison removed his hand. Only then did she look back at the two of them.

Hardison and Eliot looked back, both equally somber. At least, she thought, Eliot's finally joined the party.

Silence lay between them for a few brief seconds, and then Eliot sighed and stepped forward.

"I'll do it," he said.

Parker nodded at him. "Good." Then, taking pity on him, "And, you know, if you need me to…" She didn't need to finish. Eliot smiled for the first time in half an hour.

"Appreciate the offer, darlin'," he said, "but if anyone's gonna be putting Lindsey back into the ground, I want it to be me."


	5. Five Years Gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eliot and Lindsey finally find themselves face to face. Words unsaid have a chance to be said by both brothers. But the damage done in the past might be too great for reconciliation here and now, especially once Eliot gets the change for answers.

Finally committing to the move, Eliot took a deep breath, turned, and walked towards his twin brother. All the way, Hardison and Parker watched his back and he loved them for it.

"They're good people," said Lindsey, as soon as Eliot was near enough to hear him. "I like 'em."

"What the hell are you doing here, Lindsey?"

His twin smiled faintly, apparently completely unruffled by Eliot's greeting. "What? Are you telling me I can't stop by to do my little brother a favor? Can't ask about his brand new team?"

"Not when you have to roll out of your grave to do it," Eliot snapped.

Lindsey all but rolled his eyes. "It's not _that_ simple, Elliot. If you're waiting for me to start eatin' brains, you're gonna be waiting a while."

"Like hell it's not. What, do you still have the bullet holes under your shirt?"

Lindsey shook his head. "Nah. They were nice enough to fix me up. Other guys haven't been so lucky." He smiled as if remembering something.

"Fix you up and send you after my team," Eliot said. He would not let Lindsey distract him. Not now – there was too much at stake.

"Send me after your team to get your leader out of jail."

"We were working on it." Eliot knew he had a tendency to, well, _growl_ when he got frustrated or angry. Unfortunately, Lindsey was the one person in the entire world who'd never been intimidated by it.

"Face it, Eliot," Lindsey said, "you've been working on it for months. Honestly, it's very touching and a little pathetic. I got him out in an afternoon. Swallow your pride, already."

Eliot stared at Lindsey. Lindsey stared right back, unflinching. For a long moment, neither spoke.

"Thank you," said Eliot, finally. He sighed, and finally sat down next to his brother. "Don't get me wrong, Linds. I'm glad you got him out. Even Sophie was starting to think we might not have a chance. But I can't leave it at that. Not with what we've done. Not with who you work for."

Lindsey smiled another lopsided smile. "Elliot, I know you're smarter than you look. If Wolfram and Hart had really wanted to get their hands on Nathan Ford and the rest of you, they wouldn't have sent me to make sure he walked free."

Eliot had to admit that was true. The law firm would have applied for extradition, on the grounds that the team still had outstanding warrants in Los Angeles for property damage and forgery, at the very least. They would have counted on the team following Nate there, and rounded them all up like it was the simplest thing in the world.

For Wolfram and Hart, it would have been.

Eliot suddenly hated his own legal knowledge. Wished he could scrub it out of his head. Lindsey had been the one to teach him all these little tricks. _Takes hours to cross the ocean, even in the best of planes. You need to know how to hold your own until I can get there, wherever you are._

That was what Lindsey had told him, just before his first major overseas mission, and until today those tips and tricks had always served him well.

"See?" Lindsey asked, having followed Eliot's mental processes. "And you should know by now that Wolfram and Hart never goes to more trouble than it has to."

Eliot nodded. "Yeah. I mean, it took them, what? Five years to kill you?"

This time, it was Lindsey's turn to sigh. "You're not gonna let this go, are you?"

"How can I?" Eliot's fists clenched. _Can still feel the pain in my chest._ "Do you know how I found out that you'd died? I got mauled…by _vampires_ …and rescued by Angel. Name ring a bell?"

Lindsey sobered immediately. "Yeah. Lemme guess. He decided to play the hero, selflessly rescue the man he betrayed, and didn't bother to get his facts straight?"

"That's about it."

Lindsey snorted, shaking his head. "Sounds like the Angel I knew."

"They had to dig up your _coroner's report._ I was all but unconscious from the morphine, and they showed me your coroner's report." Eliot paused, visibly trying to get himself back under control. "You'll have to forgive me if I'm bitter, Linds."

"Fine," Lindsey said. "I forgive you. Eliot, I can promise you this. They sent me to get your boss out of jail. That's it. We're not interested in you. Or your team."

Eliot scowled. "Yeah. You are. Wolfram and Hart never goes to more trouble than it has to. Sending you out on a case like this is going to trouble."

"You've done a lot for us, in the past," Lindsey said. "We remember our friends."

Eliot noticed dimly that his fists were still clenched. Any second now, he'd draw blood. If he managed to keep himself under control, it wouldn't be Lindsey's. "You did a lot for them. Look where it got you."

"I'm here, ain't I?"

"No." Eliot shook his head. "You're not. You look like my brother and you talk like my brother but you're _not_ my brother."

Lindsey heaved a theatrical sigh and leaned back in his chair. "We were seven."

"…what?"

"We were seven. We didn't have a lot. No shoes, no toilet, six of us kids crammed into one room and come flu season it was down to four. We were seven when they took the house."

"Quiet," Eliot growled.

"That day I stole a few dollars off the mailman and told you to go buy Aimee something nice. Anything to keep you away for a few hours. After all, I knew you. I knew how you'd think. I knew what you'd do. And I was right. That whole damn day, I was right. When you came back and ran for one of the guys clearing out our house…"

"Enough."

"…I got there first. I beat you down, dragged you behind our house, sat you down, and told you, 'You can't control this. You can't control the people stepping on us like we don't matter. You can't control the people taking our lives away.'"

"Stop!"

But Lindsey wouldn't stop. "You can't even control dad. He's the one who let it happen. What you need to control isn't out there. It's in here.'" Lindsey raised a hand and tapped his chest, just over his heart, just once.

Before Eliot knew it, he was halfway to a standing position, fists clenched and muscles tensed in anticipation of striking the first blow. Lindsey promptly shoved himself upright and hurriedly stepped back out of reach. At the same moment, Eliot realized just what he was doing and forced himself to stay still.

 _Stop… breathe…_ think…

Slowly, he felt himself relax. Lindsey remained out of grabbing distance, clearly now on his guard. _Finally got you to show something human. 'Bout damn time._

Lindsey was on the defensive, and Eliot was not about to surrender that advantage.

"I'm glad you came and got Nate out, Linds," he said. "I'm grateful. Believe me. But that's as far as you go. I don't want you sniffing around my team. I don't want them anywhere _near_ Wolfram and Hart." He swallowed, before adding, "If they get hurt in any way because of you, I swear that I will put you back in the ground."

It made his ears ring to say those words, because Lindsey was his brother and they'd been through hell and back together. Lindsey had bailed him out of trouble countless times in countless places. At the time, doing a few jobs for Wolfram and Hart on the side had seemed a small price to pay in return.

_You're my brother. No changing that. We know better than anyone that there are some ties you just can't cut. You're my brother, and I love you, but I did my grieving and there's no going back from that._

Judging by the look on Lindsey's face, it had stunned him to hear those words just as much as it had stunned Eliot to say them. He also knew that Lindsey probably knew what he was thinking there and then, and honestly didn't blame him for it.

There were too many other things they could blame one another for. Lindsey's death and Eliot's own bitterness about it didn't even make the top ten.

_Speaking of which…_

A memory suddenly struck him. A conversation, up on the roof of a warehouse while he staked out a nest of vampires for the first time in two days, where the vampire known as Angel had brought up a sickening possibility for why Eliot was still even alive that night.

And another conversation, years and years earlier, where Lindsey had assured him that that very same sickening possibility would never be true. _I told you never to do that to me, but turns out you just might have._

He had to know.

From the look of things, Lindsey was looking to leave, but Eliot knew that he _had to know_.

"That last night…" he began, and Lindsey looked back at him in polite, distant interest.

"Hm?"

"That last night, you mentioned something to me."

Lindsey tried to look casual, unconcerned…but Eliot could tell he at least suspected where this was going. "I mentioned a lot of things to you."

"You said your guys at Wolfram and Hart could do something to me. Make me heal faster, be stronger." Eliot felt his fists clench again. "Do you remember?"

Lindsey nodded. If Eliot had been anyone else, his expression would have seemed cautiously neutral. _He knows. He did it._

"Do you remember what I said I'd do to you if you ever did that to me?"

Lindsey nodded again, and smiled. "You were pretty explicit, far as I can remember."

"But you did it anyway, didn't you?" Eliot said, suddenly heartsick. "You left that morning and _did_ that to me even though I _told_ you to leave it!"

Eliot knew he was getting progressively more upset, in a public venue, facing down his dead twin brother. He knew he should take himself out of the situation right then and there, before one or both of them lost control.

But he couldn't. Confronted with Lindsey, with a chance he'd never thought he'd get, he just had to know.

"You worked your friggin' mojo on me when I told you I didn't need it! I didn't _want_ it! You stopped me being human when you did that to me – I'm not much more human now than you are now, and that's just 'cause I've got a pulse!"

Lindsey stepped forward, grabbed Eliot's hand, and maneuvered it so that it gripped Lindsey's own wrist.

Eliot allowed him to do so, and to his horrified shock he felt a strong, steady pulse.

"Huh," said Lindsey mildly. "Guess you don't even have that on me anymore."


	6. Off the Chain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After everything that's happened, after everything he's seen, after everything he's been told by his twin, Eliot loses control.

Eliot didn't remember throwing the first punch, but the when he came to his senses he was punching and kicking like a mad thing, making only a superficial effort to block the blows Lindsey rained on him in return.

He heard people calling his name, but only dimly. They were far away. They weren't important. All that was important was the battle, and the pain he was inflicting on his opponent. The beast he'd always kept so carefully chained inside of him was off the chain and in the driver's seat, and Eliot could only watch and egg it on. He rejected everything Lindsey had ever taught him about keeping himself in check, picking his battles, knowing when to quit, and knowing when it was better just to walk away.

He watched himself beat the man who had done so much for him, done so much _to_ him, and he felt freer than he had in years.

No control.

No mercy.

Just the battle, and the pain.

Suddenly, there were more people there than there should have been. They were grabbing him and Lindsey, trying to pull them apart. Eliot struggled and kicked out and tried to break free of their hands. They were interfering. _No one_ could interfere. Not here. Not now.

His fist connected with one of the interlopers, and she cried out in pain. Through the haze and the bloodlust, he only barely recognized Parker's voice. She released him, and he pulled away from her. As he did, he caught sight of the hand that had dealt the blow.

There was blood on his knuckles.

The next instant, everything came back. He knew where he was, what he was doing, and who had come to pull him back. He knew what he'd just done, who he'd just struck, and suddenly wanted to tear his own heart out or gouge out his eyes because if he didn't then in another few seconds he was going to have to look up at her and see _everything_ changed all because of his own weakness.


	7. Shame, Blame, and Strategic Retreat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eliot breaks. The Leverage team is left to pick up the pieces. They don't blame him, not even Parker, but it's all a matter of getting him to hear that. To say nothing of getting out of Dodge before Sterling changes his mind, of course...

Nate didn't know what to think. On the one hand, Eliot had finally _stopped_. On the other, he'd only stopped because he'd dealt Parker a stinging backhand to the face without thinking. He'd been able to realize this, and realizing this had been why he'd shut down so suddenly and completely. That was good. It meant his hitter was still capable of regaining control of himself, at least where his team was concerned.

He'd only ever seen Eliot Spencer lose control of himself so thoroughly and completely once before. That time had also involved Lindsey, when Eliot had believed his brother to be dead and taken his anger out on his killer with a sledgehammer, a broken hand, and flail chest. But even back then, he'd never hurt one of the team.

Back then, when they'd called for him to stop, he'd _stopped_.

He'd shown himself willing to kill for his team. He'd shown himself willing to die rather than hurt them. But now he had, and there would be consequences. Nothing Nate could do or say to his hitter would be worse than what Eliot was now doing to himself.

He'd never seen someone so completely and utterly shut down. Eliot wasn't moving – he was barely breathing. When they slowly backed away from him, Parker still nursing her cheek, he did not respond at all. He did not look at them. From what Nate could tell, he wasn't looking at anything. He was just _staring_.

Nate glanced at Hardison, Sophie, and Parker. He didn't need to say anything – they stayed back. Nate went to Eliot, kneeling down next to him.

"Eliot," he said, taking care to keep his voice soft. "Eliot. I need you to talk to me."

Eliot did not reply. Nate sighed. "Eliot," he repeated, a little louder. "Eliot, come on."

Still, Eliot did not look at him.

As Nate watched, Eliot slowly raised one hand, regarded it thoughtfully, and began attempting to wipe it off on his shirt. As he did, Nate caught sight of the bloodstained knuckles. The hand he'd used to strike Parker.

_Oh, god._

Eliot's movements became steadily rougher as the blood refused to fade. It had been a small quantity of blood, and the blood itself had been thin because there were no major arteries anywhere near the cheek or jawbone. Because of this, it had already dried.

Nate let it go until Eliot looked ready to skin his hand, and then he decided that enough was enough. He grabbed Eliot's wrist and held it there.

Eliot reacted as if he'd just been shocked, looking around wildly to stare Nate. Nate felt his teammate tense under his grip, saw how much he honestly _wanted_ to pull away, but he did not. He just stared at Nate for a few long seconds, his breathing a little more rapid, before looking away and tuning Nate out again.

"All right, my man," Hardison had joined them. Nate looked over at his hacker, to see that he was addressing Eliot, kneeling down so that he could look his friend in the eye.

Eliot did not look at Hardison, or give even the faintest sign that he'd heard him speak. Hardison swallowed. He looked up nervously at Nate, apparently desperate for any sign of what to do.

"Come on, Eliot," Nate said, getting back to his feet and reaching down to help Hardison up. He took one side, Hardison took the other, and together they managed to get Eliot upright.

Physical contact was apparently what it took to get a reaction at this point. He saw something flicker in Eliot's eyes. He looked from Hardison to Nate and back again. Nate felt him tense, heard his breathing hitch ever so slightly before he looked away from both of them and stared down at the ground.

"We need to go," said Nate, to the team at large. "The best thing for us to do now is to get somewhere safe. Let's face it; the longer we stay in Sterling's back yard, the more time we give him to find a reason to haul us in for that fistfight."

"Unfortunately true," said Sophie, coming up to join them. Parker slipped in next to her. Nate's gaze immediately flicked to her, to the bruise that was already forming on her face. _God_ , it looked like she'd been hit full force with a baseball bat, instead of a glancing blow by her friend.

She was staring at Eliot, looking upset. If Nate knew Parker – and he was fairly certain he did, by now – she was far more upset by the state Eliot was now in than by the bruise on her face.

In retrospect, Nate knew it probably hadn't been the best idea to rush in all at once like that. He'd thought they might have strength in numbers. He'd thought Eliot would _stop_ if they got involved. He'd forgotten just how personalthis whole day had become for Eliot in the first place, when he more than anyone ought to have known.

"Eliot?" Parker whispered.

Eliot looked away. Parker looked like she'd just been hit all over again, and did not say another word for a while.

Hardison and Nate continued to support Eliot, who at least appeared to have regained enough consciousness to move. Sophie followed alongside, looking from one teammate to another. The one Nate knew she wanted so desperately to console wouldn't acknowledge them beyond avoiding their gaze.

A bit of confusion followed regarding who would ride where. It was traditional that Hardison would drive, but he put in a request to ride in the back, near the computers, for the purpose of researching whatever had happened to Eliot and if there was a way to snap him out of it. Parker wanted to stay close to Eliot and Hardison. In the end, Sophie ended up driving, gently shooing Nate towards the passenger's seat when he tried to protest.

"You've had a long day," she said, smiling gently. "Get off your feet, for God's sake."

She drove them out of the parking lot. Nate saw Lindsey as they went, and the dead lawyer waved as they went past. He didn't point it out to the others.

It didn't take long before Hardison had an answer. "Guys, I got it," he said, as Sophie took them onto the highway. "Searched for anything causing symptoms matching Eliot's condition, and it looks like we're dealing with Acute Stress Reaction."

"What's that?" asked Parker, going over to peer over Hardison's shoulder.

Hardison made a face, turning to face her and address Nate and Sophie as well. "You know how, when you get, like, a really bad virus attacking your computer, and you know it's just gonna go from bad to worse, so you pull a hard shutdown until you can get things sorted out?"

They nodded.

"Well, it's pretty much like that. Almost _exactly_ like that, in fact. Basically, Eliot's pulled a hard shutdown on his own higher mental functions. Guess he was freakin' out so bad that he just flipped a metaphorical 'off' switch."

"How do we snap him out of it?" Nate asked. That, above everything, was the critical point.

Unfortunately, Hardison replied by shrugging helplessly. "Dunno. My big searches came up empty, at least on anything we could do for him. I mean, it should wear off in a few hours, but I can't find anything to speed up the recovery."

Nate was forced to admit that that made sense. Eliot had had an emotional breakdown…Nate could certainly sympathize…and there would be no getting him back out of his own head until he was able to come out.

Parker looked a good deal less willing to settle for this verdict. "I want to talk to him."

"Woman, the lights are on but I am telling you nobody's home!"

Parker let out an irritated huff and went to go sit in front of Eliot.


	8. Not Your Fault

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Leverage Team takes stock. The realities of their situation begin to sink in, and the ones that are able to begin to pick up the pieces. But at least they're together again. They know that they can overcome anything, as long as they're still a team.

Hardison watched her from his chair. This time, Eliot didn't even bother to look away. He just looked through her. One of the symptoms of Acute Shock Reaction was a _worsening_ of the mental withdrawal, so this was not unexpected, but it did make his stomach clench to see Eliot's eyes so utterly vacant.

"Hey," said Parker loudly. "Eliot."

She reached out and smacked him lightly on the face. Hardison winced, but for all Eliot reacted Parker might as well have saved her strength.

"Eliot!" said Parker, louder still.

Hardison was about to tell her off again, but Parker was not done.

"Okay," she said, folding her arms. "So, you hit me. Is that what's bugging you? Big deal. I've had worse. This?" She gestured at the bruise. "Barely feel it. Seriously. It was actually kind of a wimpy shot. I mean, not that I have a lot of experience with you hitting me, and I'd actually like to keep it that way after today, but I've seen you drop guys even bigger than you with one shot, so the fact that I'm still upright says a lot, as far as I'm concerned. Not to mention the fact that we should probably know better than to come within five feet of you when you're smacking someone around, even if he just so happens to look just like you."

Parker waited for a moment, giving Eliot a chance to respond if he chose. She fancied that she saw a flicker of movement, a slight reaction, but nothing she could ultimately prove wasn't her own hopeful imagination.

Parker drew her knees up to her chest, took a deep breath, and went on.

"If you're so upset because of Lindsey, then I understand," she said. "And I'm sorry I pushed you into talking to him. Maybe it would have been better if you'd just sat there and he'd just sat there. We did need to know, but it didn't have to be you. And I pushed you into it. It's just…I started thinking of all the things I would have said to my brother, if he'd…and I just lost it."

She heaved another sigh. Parker knew she couldn't be sure if Eliot had heard her, but that was that. She'd listened to Eliot deny his own brother, when he'd just been handed a chance that she'd been perfectly willing to kill for in her darkest hours, and she'd briefly lost her mind. Suddenly, nothing had been so important as getting Eliot to talk to Lindsey, and say the things she knew he'd never thought he'd be able to say after he learned of Lindsey's death all those months ago.

And then everything else had happened. She knew now it was a mistake. Maybe, once you did your grieving, there really was no going back.

Maybe Eliot had heard her. Maybe he hadn't. The rest was up to him.

The rest of the van was quiet. Too quiet. It made her itch. So she turned to face them and said, with a bright, brittle smile on her face: "So, Nate, how was prison?"

It snapped the tension like a twig. Her team laughed, and Parker's smile was suddenly genuine.

"Boring," Nate said, once they'd calmed down a bit. "Impossibly boring. Hope you guys found time to get me a couple of clients."

"Man, you would not _believe_ the shockwaves after you went off the grid," Hardison said, shaking his head and smiling. "We beat feet out of Bellbridge and haven't gone back, but people still came lookin' for us."

"And a few of them managed to find us," Sophie finished. "We did our best for them, but…it hasn't been the same, without you. So, when you're ready…"

"I'm ready," said Nate, and they knew it by his voice. "Believe me, Sophie. I'm ready."

Parker smiled. So, that really was that. Just like that, they were a team again.

She only flinched very slightly when she felt a hand on her shoulder, and that was more out of surprise than fear. She looked around, and for the first time in almost an hour Eliot looked back at her.

"It's not your fault," he said quietly.

"It's not yours either," she countered.

He hesitated at her words, apparently having some difficulty processing the idea. Parker smiled her most reassuring smile, and amazingly enough it seemed to work. Eliot finally nodded slightly, and settled back against the wall of the truck with a tired sigh.

At first Nate had thought that Eliot might have been angry at them for stopping his fight. He knew, had known for a while now, that Eliot had been left with a lot of unresolved issues and unanswered questions after learning about his brother's death. Today he'd gotten a chance to get those answers, work out those issues, and maybe he'd decided to do that with a fistfight. Maybe he'd viewed the team as intruders on his own catharsis.

He watched Eliot collapse back against the wall of the truck, apparently so utterly drained of energy that even sitting upright was a chore. He watched the way Eliot looked at Parker and Hardison, saw the sideways way he kept glancing at Nate and Sophie, and it suddenly came to him.

Eliot was _afraid_. He was afraid of himself, for what he'd done. He was afraid for losing control. Worse, he was afraid to look at them, any of them. He was afraid of what he might see in their eyes.

"How're you holdin' up?" asked Hardison, who had turned round in his chair to stare at Eliot anyway.

"Tired," said Eliot simply.

"Take a nap," offered Parker.

Eliot shook his head. "No, thanks."

Nate understood. He didn't say anything, but he understood. After a long, rattling, traumatic ordeal, sometimes what you really needed was to be surrounded by the voices of people you loved. _Sometimes, that's all it takes._

The sun was setting by the time it was agreed that dinner would probably be a good idea. Sophie drove them to the next diner they found that was reasonably nice, and for the first time in months the team sat down together and relaxed. Parker stole food off Eliot and Hardison's plate, Hardison traded his breadsticks for Sophie's shrimp, Parker kept trying to put sugar in Nate's coffee, Sophie kept trying to steal the sugar back from Parker to put in her tea, and Eliot accidentally put down ketchup for his steak instead of steak sauce, and so had to endure Hardison leaning across him to get ketchup for his French fries for the next fifteen minutes.

It was an _impossibly_ pleasant evening.


	9. Different

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lindsey makes a reappearance, in a rather unexpected fashion. Nate realizes that the time has come to figure out just what to do with him, and where he should stand in the eyes of the team. However, the final solution to that problem depends entirely on Eliot.

About the time deserts were ordered, Eliot excused himself for a few minutes. "Just need some air," he said by way of explanation.

"Don't zone out again!" ordered Parker sternly.

"I won't." Eliot smiled reassuringly at her, and walked away. Nate saw him duck outside, and didn't give the matter anymore thought until Lindsey McDonald walked back ten minutes later, sat down in Eliot's chair, and began speaking to them as though he were Eliot.

It took him a few minutes to identify the man, especially because he was wearing the clothes Eliot had been wearing when he'd left earlier. He didn't know whose idea the switch had been – probably Lindsey's – and decided not to worry too much when he caught sight of Eliot outside, wearing the clothes Lindsey had been wearing earlier.

The rest of the team caught on shortly after Nate did. They managed to indulge the game for another fifteen minutes altogether, before Parker couldn't take it anymore and burst out laughing at Lindsey's continued attempts to pretend he was Eliot.

"What? What'd I miss?" asked Lindsey, frowning in confusion.

Parker all but choked on her mouthful of bread. Hardison obligingly whacked her on the back, allowing her to spit out the offending mouthful into a napkin.

"Sorry," she said, still grinning anyway. "Guess I blew it."

Nate shrugged and smiled. "That's fine. If he'd kept up that admittedly impressive stream of bullshit much longer, I would have lost it, too."

"You are very good," added Sophie kindly to Lindsey. "Honestly, I'm almost ashamed of myself. You actually did fool me for a few minutes."

"Don't feel bad," Nate told her. "This is the second time he's fooled me today. I should know better, by now."

He saw Lindsey preparing to protest, preparing to try and fool them all over again, and Nate held up a hand to forestall him.

"Lindsey McDonald," he said. "You are very, very good at what you do. Unfortunately for you, so are we."

"We know our teammate," said Sophie.

"We know our friend," said Hardison.

"We know our family," added Parker.

"And you are not him," said Nate. "It was a nice try, when all's said and done, but playtime is over. Go get Eliot and tell him that."

"Not necessary, boss." Eliot was already walking towards them, wearing Lindsey's suit and grinning happily. He pulled up a chair from an empty table and held up a hand, glancing at Lindsey. "Pay up."

"My wallet's in _your_ pocket."

Eliot fished out a wallet from the pocket of the suit, and passed it to Lindsey. Bitterly, Lindsey counted out fifty dollars and handed them back to Eliot.

"Sorry," said Eliot to the rest of the team, as this exchange took place. "It was his idea."

"To do _what_ , exactly?" asked Sophie, resting her chin in her hands and staring at the twins intently.

"He decided to bet me fifty bucks that he could still pull off a switch." Eliot smirked. "I told him he wouldn't last half an hour."

Parker conscientiously checked her watch. "Fifteen minutes."

"Fifteen minutes," Eliot agreed. Then, "Nice job."

"Even our own parents couldn't tell us apart, when we didn't want 'em to," grumbled Lindsey.

"Times change, Linds." Eliot's voice was almost pitying. He looked back at the team, and Nate thought his hitter looked honestly _touched_. "They're different." He got to his feet, and so did Lindsey. "Come on. I want out of this monkey suit. Sorry, Nate. Be back in a few. And it _will_ be me this time."

It was. Lindsey and Eliot went to the restroom to change, and when they came back Eliot was dressed as Eliot and Lindsey was dressed as Lindsey. Nate didn't even have to try this time.

Feeling generous, Nate let Eliot and Lindsey order some dessert for themselves. Eliot had never gotten his due to being called away for the switch and, in Lindsey's words, "Apple pie makes me sick." This meant having to let Parker and Hardison order another round of sweets for themselves, to keep things fair. Nate and Sophie contented themselves with coffee.

He let Lindsey stay, chiefly to see what Eliot's twin brother would do. What he did was attempt to get a read on the rest of the team. He tried to be subtle about it, but Nate had spent too much time around Sophie to miss it when he was being played. He saw it in the apparently casual questions Lindsey asked them all, and the way he watched them as they answered – silently analyzing their body language and the tones of their voices.

_Reconnaissance? Information gathering? Is he getting material to take back to Wolfram and Hart?_

Eventually, however, Nate decided that this was not the case. _At least, not quite the case._ Lindsey was gathering information, but it was for his own use. He wasn't feeling them out for a later attack; he was feeling them out simply to see what sort of people they were, how they felt about his brother, and how they treated him. _Actually a rather sweet gesture, in a deeply sinister sort of way._

Judging by the look in Eliot's eyes as soon as Lindsey got to talking, he knew what Lindsey was up to just as well as Nate did. Neither of them said anything about it, however. They let Lindsey play his games, because by now it was clear to all involved that he didn't know how to stop.

But he did pick up half the check, was polite, and by the time they walked back to the parking lot together the rest of the team seemed to have forgiven him, to one degree or another.

"It'll be nice to have a lawyer on the team," said Parker, locking her hands behind her head.

"Oh, yeah?" asked Lindsey.

Parker nodded. "I mean, Nate and Sophie know some stuff, and Hardison can usually look stuff up, but it'll be nice not to have to fake it the next time we get called into a courtroom."

Lindsey looked thoughtful at this statement, and Nate couldn't blame him. He was amazed that Parker had been the first one to bring the prospect up, but there it was. _Would Lindsey really join the team?_

It would make life easier if he did, because Parker was right – none of them had any proper legal training, not even Nate, and sometimes their jobs required them to work a courtroom and win a court case. Having someone who honestly knew what he was doing would make their lives infinitely easier. Lindsey was a good lawyer. He'd gotten Nate out of jail under Sterling's watch.

There was still tension between Lindsey and Eliot, however, and that was the main issue with Parker's idea. They had temporarily solved the problem of being near one another by keeping Hardison and Parker between them, but Eliot had not completely shut down or gone crazy again. It might be the presence of the team keeping him calm, but it was still progress.

_Why not? If Eliot can stand to have him around, if Lindsey will stay…_

But that was the biggest question. _Could Eliot stand to have him around?_

He took another look at his hitter, and decided that the answer was "probably not." Eliot had softened slightly after successfully making a fool out of his twin brother, after being forgiven by the team, but there was still too much left unsaid, too much bitterness, too much damage.

He took another look at Lindsey, and realized that Lindsey had come to this exact conclusion. He also realized that Lindsey looked almost unhappy about it, and so wasn't entirely surprised when the lawyer stepped closer to Eliot, close enough to touch him on the shoulder and murmur something in his ear.

Eliot's immediately stopped walking, as did Lindsey. The rest of the team stopped walking and looked back curiously at the two of them.

"I need to talk to Eliot," said Lindsey, smiling apologetically. "Can you give us a minute, Mr. Ford?"

Nate glanced at Eliot for an answer. Eliot's fists were clenched at his sides, his jaw was tightened, and all in all he looked as though he wanted nothing more than to shove Lindsey away as hard as he could.

But he nodded, and so Nate nodded. "Don't be long," he said.

Eliot nodded. "I won't," he growled.


	10. Croatia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lindsey finally explains why he did what he did, all those years ago. The liberation of Croatia came with a hefty price for both brothers. Lindsey, at least, would pay it again in a heartbeat.

The rest of team walked on towards the van on the other side of the vast parking lot, leaving Eliot and Lindsey alone on the sidewalk. Eliot swallowed.

"All right," he said, watching the team walk away. "Talk."

"So you still want to know why I did what I did to you? Why I changed you?"

"I know this is probably the only chance I'll have," Eliot said. "Don't know what's possessed you to suddenly want to share, though."

"I suddenly want to share because it's my last chance. You know that. And I want you to know my side." He paused. "Eliot, you have a lot of reasons to hate me. To be fair, I have a lot of reasons to hate you, but I had my reasons for doing what I did to you."

Eliot shook his head. "There is no good reason for doing what you did to me."

Before Eliot could react, Lindsey was suddenly in front of him. His twin brother grabbed him by the front of his shirt and backed him into the nearest wall, into the shadows, all but lifting him off the ground.

Then, Lindsey smiled.

"You know, you can bitch about it all you want, but the fact of the matter is that I'd already put the enhancements on you before I even brought it up. Only reason I asked was to know whether or not I should actually tell you that."

"Why?" Eliot tried to throw Lindsey off of him, but to no avail. His twin brother was immovable.

"Croatia," Lindsey growled. "Do you remember Croatia?"

"The hell? Of _course_ I remember Croatia!"

"Obviously, you don't." Lindsey stepped back, letting Eliot stand on his own two feet again. "Yeah, you liberated Croatia. Nice job. A girl dumps you, you liberate a third-world country. Better than most guys can hope for. What do you remember about the aftermath?"

Eliot honestly thought about the question. "Not much," he admitted. The weeks after the proper overthrow of the Croatian government were hazy, to say the very least.

"Well, then, let me tell you how it went down. Let me tell you what _I_ went through. After the dust settled, you were imprisoned as a war criminal. Remember that?" Anger glinted in Lindsey's eyes now, and to Eliot's surprise…fear. "New government wanted to clean up their mess, make it look like they'd been the good guys all along, like they _hadn't_ had to do some stuff that made the old government look saintly. You just happened to be part of their mess. Happens all the time, and with some of the stuff you did during the battle I couldn't say I was all that surprised."

He paused again, clearly trying to get himself under control. "As soon as I heard what had happened, of course I started making plans to fly out. But what _I_ didn't know until it was almost too late was that you were bleeding to death in a shed in the middle of _nowhere_ when they picked you up. They caught you trying to sew your guts back in with fishing line. And they didn't do anything about it. I heard about that _in passing._ One of our contacts happened to see you get brought in, half-dead. Of course, he thought you were me. So he called the head of my branch, the head of my branch told my boss, and my boss told me _five days_ after you were brought in. I hadn't even left the country yet. By the time I got in, got to them, got to _you_ , you were so far gone that I didn't have time to deal. I had to pay them off. It took half my department's budget, and don't think they didn't make me pay for it later."

"You _still_ flatlined twice on the way to the hospital."

Lindsey McDonald had seen many horrible, terrible things in his life. He'd _done_ many horrible, terrible things in his life, especially in the employ of Wolfram and Hart. He prided himself on being numb, on being willing to use the horror around him for his own gain, on being willing to do anything to reach the top of the heap. He'd grown unshakeable, a trait Wolfram and Hart had always valued in its employees.

Despite all of that, Eliot had always been his blind spot.

Lindsey remembered, and it still sent a chill down his spine. Hearing from Holland Manners that his twin brother had been picked up by the unstable, paranoid, newly instated Croatian government, bleeding from the gut, that he'd been deemed "untreatable", a "hopeless case", someone "not worth their time." _They couldn't take the time to treat him, but they could sure as hell spare that broom closet they shut him up in while they waited for him to die._

Bribing his way through the airport, through customs, paying whatever they asked just so he could get out of the country fast enough. Bribing, threatening his way through the prison house, desperate to get to the people who were really in charge. Finally, _finally_ cutting a deal, because they'd seen how desperate he was and taken advantage, and being taken to Eliot's cell and seeing the _mess_ that lay inside _,_ the tortured, brutalized, bleeding, half-dead shell of his brother…

You had to protect someone who shared your face. It was something Lindsey had learned very early in life. You had to protect someone who looked just like you. Being someone else's twin was both the ultimate responsibility and the ultimate defense.

He'd managed to get Eliot to the hospital, and against all odds Eliot had survived.

"But then I realized something, Eliot," he said. "I realized that, one day, I was going to have to go through the whole song and dance all over again. Because you were only human, you never listened to me, and one day you'd get yourself into the exact same fix. Then I'd come running to the rescue. Fine. No problem. But one day, I knew that I wouldn't be able to. I knew that something would go wrong. I'd be too late, or you'd be too slow, and that possibility actually made me sick."

He swallowed. "I called the priests in that night. The ritual was completed before you woke up."

Lindsey stepped further back, bracing himself for Eliot's reaction. "So, yeah, I changed you. I stopped you from being human. If it meant that I wouldn't have to scramble and _panic_ like that ever again, I would do it again in a heartbeat. If you want to take another shot at me, go ahead. But I'll give you fair warning, Eliot…I won't go easy on you this time around."

He saw that Eliot was honestly thinking about it, saw his twin tense in preparation of taking another shot at him, and then he saw Eliot's gaze be caught by something over Lindsey's shoulder, saw his eyes widen almost imperceptibly.


	11. Epilogue: You're Welcome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the eleventh hour, Eliot and Lindsey come to an understanding. Two simple words wind up saying all that needs to be said.

Lindsey didn't turn around – he knew better than to turn his back on Eliot. But he raised his voice and spoke, "Mr. Ford. Have I taken up too much of your time?"

"You're getting there," said Nate evenly, standing a few feet behind Lindsey. "Eliot."

"Yeah." Lindsey saw Eliot all but forcing himself to relax, to calm down.

"You okay?"

"I'll live." With an almighty effort, Eliot forced himself to walk past Lindsey without throwing a punch and rejoin Nate. "Sorry."

Lindsey turned just in time to see Nate smile in sympathy, clap Eliot companionably on the shoulder. That was all it took for the fight to go out of Eliot. Just like that, the beast was back on the chain, and he was looking at his brother.

"Go on," said Nate, subtly nudging Eliot back towards the van. "Hardison's already made hotel reservations. We all need sleep."

Eliot nodded, and looked back at Lindsey. "See you around, Linds. Since you don't have the decency to stay _dead_ , after all."

Lindsey smiled and shook his head. _Oh, Eliot_ , he thought, almost pitying his twin.

"I have one more thing to say," was what he said out loud, as Nate and Eliot turned to leave again. "Before you go."

"Is it gonna make me want to hit you again?" growled Eliot, without turning around.

"Probably not, but you always were short tempered."

"Heh." Eliot almost sounded amused. He still did not turn around, although Nate was watching Lindsey curiously now. "So, what is it?"

"I lied to you."

"Which time?"

"One last time." Lindsey closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and said the words that would change everything. "Wolfram and Hart never sent me."

There was a pause. A long, drawn out, tense pause before Eliot looked back.

"What? What are you talking about? Of _course_ they sent you. Who else could have done this to you?"

Lindsey did not reply. Despite his frequent claims to the contrary, Eliot was a smart man. He'd figure it out.

When he finally did, his eyes went wide with disbelief. "Are you actually going to try and tell me that the PTB…"

"The what?" asked Nate helplessly.

"Powers that Be." Which wasn't much of an explanation, but anything further would take too long. Eliot silently promised to explain later, but right now there were bigger issues standing in front of him, wearing his face. " _Why_ would the Powers that Be bring _you_ back? Of all the good people who have ever died, why would they…"

"I had the necessary skill set to get the job done," said Lindsey simply.

" _What_ job?"

"They wanted your boss out of jail." Lindsey jerked a thumb at Nate. "They wanted you guys back in the game." He shrugged airily. "When push comes to shove, sometimes the PTB take care of their champions."

"We're not champions," said Eliot flatly, and at that Lindsey laughed bitterly.

"What? You think that just because you don't save the world from fiery destruction once a week, you're not champions?"

Eliot could not think of a way to reply to that, and Lindsey smiled. "Trust me on this. They don't spring for a temporary resurrection for anyone but the best."

"…temporary?" asked Eliot quietly.

 _Ah, damn it._ Lindsey hadn't quite meant to say it like that. He hadn't quite meant to say it at all. He knew Eliot had suspected. Judging by the way that Nate was suddenly staring at him, they'd all suspected. He still hadn't meant to bring it up. _Nothing to do about it, now._

_I'm almost out of time, anyway._

"In other words, I'm afraid I won't be able to indulge in Parker's very generous invitation to join your little band of vigilantes," was what he finally said out loud.

"That's too bad," said Eliot.

Impossibly enough, he sounded as though he meant it.

"Yes," said Nate, watching his hitter carefully. "That really is too bad."

"I'll see you, then," said Eliot bitterly.

"Let's hope not." Lindsey smiled, trying to be reassuring about it. "Even though I can never help pushing your buttons, it was good to see you."

"You, too."

And his twin sounded as though he meant that, too. _Times really have changed,_ Lindsey thought wonderingly. He glanced pointedly at Nate, who took the hint and laid a hand on Eliot's shoulder, making to guide him away.

Eliot resisted for just a moment, just long enough to take one last look at Lindsey and speak to his twin one last time.

"Thank you," he whispered.

Lindsey hadn't realized until those two small words were spoken that he'd been waiting to hear them all day. It wasn't just gratitude. It was forgiveness. At the eleventh hour, forgiveness.

"You're welcome," he said simply.

Here and now, that was all that needed to be said.

Eliot allowed Nate to lead him back to the truck, back to his team, back to his friends. He kept his head bowed, his shoulders were shaking, and Lindsey knew that his brother was trying desperately to hold himself back, keep himself together.

Lindsey watched them until they reached the truck, watched the team as it was finally, honestly reunited. _More than a team,_ he finally decided, remembering what he'd seen in the restaurant and watching them now. No questions were asked. No details were needed. Nate, Parker, Hardison, and Sophie simply did their best to quietly comfort Eliot over the death of a man five years ago.

 _A family_ , he realized. _The ties that bind will get you far in life._

His brother was in good hands.

That was his last thought before he faded.


End file.
